


Insecurities

by baekedbyuns



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Insecurity, actually this is open to interpretation and could be any pairing from any fandom, also it's been forever since i've posted whoops, i just classified as baeksoo cuz i love baeksoo, sorry this is so short r.i.p.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 01:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baekedbyuns/pseuds/baekedbyuns
Summary: Baekhyun can't help but love everything about Kyungsoo.





	

**Author's Note:**

> idk where this came from tbh
> 
> also i have no idea if kyungsoo would be insecure about anything (how could he - he's perfect), i just made stuff up

He lifts his hand, almost hesitantly, and slowly reaches out to touch my right ear. He takes the odd fold of it between his thumb and index finger and leans in closer, studying it. I hold my breath in an attempt to stop my ear from turning red in embarrassment.

“I don't see anything wrong with it.” he says sweetly, softly. It's almost a whisper. Eventually he starts to absentmindedly rub the tip of my ear with his thumb and my hands spring up to hide my face. I hate when he does cute stuff like that.

I hear him giggle his adorable giggle. “Oh, the tips of your ears are pink! Shy, are we?~” he uses a baby voice that makes me want to scream. I settle for a weird whimper-like noise and tell him to stop instead. I know he can tell that I don't really mean it, though. 

Then I feel his warm hands on mine. He tugs on my fingers, but I keep them glued to my face. He tries again to reveal what's underneath my hands, so I give up and let him remove them. I lift my eyelids to see him observing my face with crinkly, lovey-dovey eyes. It reduces me to melted chocolate, all warm and gooey, on the inside.

His hand slowly glides down my torso to my hips. I hold back the squirms from it tickling. The pads of his fingers make their way under my shirt and graze my stretch marks. He looks at the wriggly streaks of purple and pink almost admirably, though I can't believe it. What's so admirable about stretch marks? They're imperfections. 

“They're like lightning bolts. Or tiger stripes,” he answers as if he can hear the question in my mind.

“They're just ugly lines on what could be clear, smooth skin.” 

“Don't say that. They're beautiful lines. Like lines of words, that tell the story of you growing.” 

I snort. “That's incredibly cheesy.” 

He smiles widely. “I know.”


End file.
